thebananapost

thebananapost

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My family was dysfunctional to say the least. I came from a long line of murderers, child molesters, and whatnot. I could only hope for one day to come out normal... But how do you find normal in a world of dysfunctional?

I walked into the room to my dog sleeping next to the roaring fire that had been kindled in the fireplace for some undefined reason; we never had fires in that thing unless it was for a special occasion. And then I saw it- I saw HIM- down on one knee with a little black box in his hand.

tires

There were skid marks in the middle of the street- it was apparent the break in had occurred not too long before. They kicked in the door and replaced it with a tent, but how'd they get away without their tires?

Mike's entire life had been one giant sacrifice. All he wanted to do was raise his daughter right, and not one person could see that. In his eyes, there was something more; I could see it. He craved something. As Mike raised his hand to brush the hair from my face in the pouring rain, he said to me, "I'd swim the ocean for you." Then kissed me.

The critic's eyes stared intensely at the artistry of the sculpture; it must have taken ages to carve it. Beautiful curvature, color, movement... it was the new "David." It was certainly one of a kind and the artist gained tremendous respect.

It was the shepherd that led her into the home. He found the girl wounded and unable to fend for herself out in the wilderness. From then on, he would take care of her. It wasn't like he was old, or crude, but he had been on his own for awhile, too. One day, they'd fall in love.

It was an automatic type of thing: the way she moved from side-to-side, catching all the eyes of the people around her. The curvature of her body making them stare in awe; her beauty was striking. She was the one everyone wanted.

dull

The room was poorly-lit and an odd shade of olive. A couch sat opposite the television, next to the sliding glass door. More olive constituted as curtains. It was dull to the last bolt on the door. All the woman could do was take off her mary-janes and hope the next day would be better.

The evidence was on her face; the blush made her radiant. It spread across from the bridge of her nose to the apples of her cheeks. His lips on hers was something that did this to her. It made her heart soar and she fell in love all over again every single time.

I'm always pressed for time; my life crumbles from the amount of stress I take on. It hurts, being under so much pressure. There aren't enough hours in the day for what needs to be done. I'm pressed under the weight of the things I do; I'm under pressure.

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writing since 2011 · 17 entries · 16 days shown up

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on this day 15 years ago

thebananapost wrote about pressed
“I'm always pressed for time; my life crumbles from the amount of stress I take on. It hurts, being under so much pressure. There aren't enough hours in the day for what needs to be done. I'm pressed …”

the words thebananapost reaches for

averagelovenormaldooreyesgirlpouchhopelovedcouchhurtstreetnoticedoddlookingcolor